


Figure 8

by SoonerThanLater



Category: Captain Swan - Fandom, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoonerThanLater/pseuds/SoonerThanLater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by the film, The Cutting Edge: Killian Jones is a down and out hockey player, Emma Swan is an Olympic silver medalist pairs figure skater who is in need of a partner. Little do they know just how much they need each other, both on and off the ice. </p><p>--</p><p>“Now,” Emma cut through his thoughts, “We skate. Think you can keep up?”<br/>“Well I guess that’s one of the things you’ll learn about me,” Killian grinned.<br/>“I love a challenge.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Challenge

**Author's Note:**

> This is obviously an AU where the curse, the Enchanted Forest, and Storybrooke does not exist. I merely adapted the characters from Once Upon a Time to fit into this plot. 
> 
> I'm currently working on the second chapter, and hopefully it will be up by tomorrow night! 
> 
> Also, I don't own Once Upon a Time, Disney, or The Cutting Edge. Unfortunately. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it! :)

            Killian Jones stepped out of the sleek black limousine and onto a driveway paved with stones imported from some European heirloom estate. However, he is very much aware that he is _not_ in Europe. The Greenwich, Connecticut home was only a short plane ride away from his own dingy apartment in Chicago. Even so, he already missed the hustle and bustle of the city streets, where his favorite local pub is only a block away.

            “Here we are! The Mills’ residence,” Mary Margaret Blanchard piped up from where she stood next to him. “It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

            The mansion certain is a sight to behold beneath a blanket of fresh snow. The frosty exterior only made the inside appear inviting, assuming there was a warm fireplace, as a respite from the cold.

            “Right you are… But I hope we haven’t traveled all this way so we can admire some icicles on an old home,” Killian remarked impatiently.

            No more than a second later, he felt a sharp nudge against his shoulder.

            Even with his lost fifteen degrees of peripheral vision, Killian could still see the jagged tip of the blade’s toe-pick, no thanks to Mary Margaret dangling the brand new black figure skates mere inches from his face.

            “You can bet on your pretty face that we didn’t come here to just admire the New England winter. Come on, she’s already been on the ice since six this morning,” Mary Margaret said as she watched a member of the house staff pick up Killian’s only luggage: one old beat up brown leather duffle bag. She wondered if he just travels light or if he really doesn’t plan on sticking around. The hoped it was the former.

            Killian’s eyebrow arched, “Quite passionate, is she?”

            Mary Margret smirked, keeping him trailing a few paces behind her as she navigated her way to the personal ice rink located only a five minute walk from the main house.

            “Yes, passionate. That’s one word for it,” She quipped.

            Killian studied the good-natured teasing smile on her face, thinking, “ _What the hell did I just get myself into_ ”.

            But really. What did he informally agree to?

            He agreed to a better future… at least that’s what Killian keeps telling himself. Just a little under two years ago, he was at the top of his game, and looked to be the most promising new rookie in the entire national hockey league. Little did he know how much could change in an instant. During a play-off game, a few players from the opposing team grew irate of Killian’s cocky smile and carefree airs after he scored two goals in a row. They crushed him against the ply-glass, knocking him unconscious and subsequently rewarded him with a trip to the emergency room.

            From the moment Killian’s physician reported the ultimate diagnosis, his whole world and dreams were crushed under the weight of the present and his newly-acquired shortcomings. The loss of fifteen degrees from his peripheral vision would normally be a mere inconvenience. But for someone who dreamed to play for the United States hockey team during the next Olympic games, he was in for the disappointment of his life. But even with the news, he refused to give up. So for the past two years, he relentlessly applied and tried out for every national hockey league and even a few minor league teams. To his dismay, every league rejected his application after lauding his efforts to stay in the game. Killian whole-heartedly believed that as much as he yearned for the game, the game didn’t yearn for him. Not anymore.

            He was almost content to commiserate his dashed hopes and unfulfilled dreams at a local pub with all of the other poor miserable lads who once had big goals and seemingly little luck that usually is all that’s needed to achieve their lofty goals. That is, until Mary Margaret waltzed into his life and offered him a deal he would be an idiot to refuse: a chance to try out for skating partner with Emma Swan, an Olympic silver medalist figure skater. A world-renowned skater Mary Margaret just happens to coach. The only catch appeared to be the mystery revolving around the reason(s?) as to why Emma suddenly dumped her old partner, August Booth, just after last year’s the national championships; a competition where they didn’t even place. Was it because he dropped her at the most crucial moment in their program? Did Emma push him too hard and only demanded the impossible?

            Snow slid the heavy metallic door open with a loud clang, the noise briefly echoing throughout the skating rink. Snow watched awe dawn upon Killian’s face as he took the whole scene in. Little did she know his eyes were not wandering and taking in the beauty of the architecture of the building, the woodwork of which mimicked the elegance and intricacy of the most luxurious Norwegian alpine cottages. No, his eyes transfixed upon the one and only Olympic silver medalist Emma Swan.

            Mary Margaret’s loud entrance didn’t phase Emma as she continued to glide and effortlessly trace beautiful patterns into the smooth ice with her intricate footwork. Killian didn’t hear any music playing and only assumed she had her own song playing in her head. Killian looked over at Mary Margaret. Mary Margaret’s complacent expression led Killian to believe that Emma’s indifference to their presence should come as no surprise.

            And sure enough, Emma finally acknowledged Mary Margaret and Killian no later than a minute after their initial arrival. Killian noted with admiration how graceful she came to a stop just a couple of yards away from them.

            “ _Keeping herself at a safe distance_ ,” Killian thought.

            Emma eyed Killian and took in his appearance from top to bottom: straight black hair hand-combed back in an attempt to keep it out of his eyes, stormy blue eyes, finely curved lips, and a lean strong body clad in a red flannel shirt, black parka that looks like he picked up at a Salvation Army clearance sale, worn black jeans, and what looks to be brown construction boots. Emma’s sharp brown eyes honed in on Mary Margaret now as if to say, “ _Where the hell did you find this guy?_ ” Emma squared her shoulders and smoothed down the skirt of her white skating dress, attempting to put on airs of nonchalance. In the end, the other “partners” got up and left after no more than a month of training. In Emma’s opinion, August left large shoes to fill. The first day is always a test and Emma is more than happy to play the role of the dreaded impossible teacher to the poor unfortunate souls who hope to try out.

            “Can I _help_ you?” Emma inquired after Killian, as if he was a newly appointment help and got lost on his first day of the job… which is not too far from the truth.

            Killian flashed a charming, dazzling smile.

            “Ah, where are my manners? The name is Killian Jones. Newly appointed partner in your quest for a gold medal, _milady_.”  

            The skepticism didn’t leave Emma’s eyes as she crossed her arms.

            Killian watched as enlightenment brightened her eyes.

            “You’re that hockey player, aren’t you? The one that was nearly blinded,” Emma spoke slowly as she skated a few feet closer, as if he had difficulties seeing her clearly.

            Killian shrugged, “I may be slightly more blind than I was two years ago, but I can assure you that everything else still works.”

            Mary Margaret stifled a laugh at Emma’s reddening face.

            Emma spun so fast her blade made a sizeable chip into the ice, but she was glad to have her back to him.

            “Mary Margaret! He obviously doesn’t take this seriously. I refuse to work with someone who thinks this is a joke. He just won’t cut it,” Emma made sure her voice cut through the chilly air, loud and defiantly.

            To her surprise, Emma heard heavy footsteps walking towards her. Even Mary Margaret had trouble taking in the sound and sight of Killian walking towards Emma on the ice.

            “Listen here, _princess_ ,” Killian’s voice demanded her attention as well as his words.

            Emma involuntarily shivered at his closeness and _realness_. The only people who talked to her like this were her mother and Mary Margaret. It was the kind of tone that is spurred on by tough love, by someone trying to break down her walls.

            Building up walls is almost an instinct by now, and part of Emma’s nature. It’s one of the few ways she knows how to keep herself safe. It keeps her from building something much worse: false hope. False hope can be a very unfortunate burden for a child to carry as they move from foster family to foster family. However, Emma considered herself to be one of the lucky ones. She thought herself lucky enough to be adopted up by Regina Mills, a wealthy governor, at the ripe age of six. Since then, she always felt like she lived a Cinderella life—once an orphan with nothing in the world, and then suddenly she has a strong, dependable mother who is able to provide both love and nearly anything that money can buy. Regina has definitely taken a hold over Emma’s heart. Fast forward twenty years, and Emma still has to fight that insecure six-year-old that lingers in the cold dark corners of her psyche. That child lingers, still thinking that all of this could be gone in a second if she’s not careful enough.

            And now, Killian stands before her, taking yet another brave step closer.

            Emma narrowed her eyes at him, “You’re really not going anywhere are you?”

            Killian cocked an eyebrow, “Not without a fair fight, love.”

            The silence stunned Mary Margaret more than her own speechless self. She is more than satisfied with watching and listening to how this story pans out as a mere spectator. Also, it’s not every day when Emma Swan is tested on her own ice. Well, by someone other than her own coach.

            Emma now faced Killian once again. Thankful for wearing skates in that very moment, the skates added the extra couple of inches she needed to meet him at eye level.

            Emma let a small smile creep upon her lips before saying, “Well it sounds like you’ve made your choice.”

            Then, out of nowhere, Killian lowered the upper half of his body in a simple bow. Emma arched an eyebrow when he turned his face back up to meet hers.

            “Only if you allow me to make that choice. The call is yours,” his voice is clear with sincerity.

            Mary Margaret struggled to contain herself from bursting with her own thoughts on the matter. She wondered if she spent too much time watching television dramas, thrilled at the current cliffhanger in this very real life scenario. She can already read Emma’s answer on her face, and merely offered an encouraging nod when Emma glanced over to where she stood on the side of the rink.

            “Alright. We skate every day except Saturdays. Our personal trainer comes in every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Ballet instructor usually meets on Tuesdays, but I think in your case, I may have to arrange for Thursdays as well—,” Emma informed an attentive Killian.

            Killian refrained from biting his lip at the mention of a ballet instructor. It served as a reminder to all of those ballroom lessons his mother coerced him into attending as a young boy. It was not his favorite pastime. But as he stared at Emma’s lips and listened to her calm pragmatic voice, he realized he could definitely get used to the idea of spending his precious time working alongside this tough lass.

            “Now,” Emma cut through his thoughts, “We skate. Think you can keep up?”

            Mary Margaret looked on proudly as Killian laced up his new black skates in record speed.

            “Well I guess that’s one of the things you’ll learn about me,” Killian asserted, “I love a challenge.” 


	2. Give Me A Chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second chapter! Enjoy! 
> 
> As per usual, I do not own Disney, Once Upon a Time or The Cutting Edge.

            Emma grinned down at Killian’s supine form on the ice. His face scrunched in pain after his fifteenth fall within the past two hours.

            “That blasted toothpick,” Killian said through gritted teeth.

            Emma shrugged and glided away saying, “What happened to be a lover of challenges?”

            Killian huffed in frustration as he stood up, although much more painstakingly slower than the first fall.

            Mary Margaret offered a smile from the sidelines before addressing Killian, “Don’t worry, it’s a bit of an adjustment from hockey skates. Trust me, I know. My boyfriend, David, is a hockey player. I dared him to use figure skates and believe it or not, you fared better than he did.”

            A peal of laughter escaped Emma’s lips and lifted the air around Killian. Even when pain flanked his knees and backside, the sound made him feel lighter.

            “Oh, how I miss David,” Emma spoke wistfully. “You guys have to come over for dinner one night. You know, when my mom is out of town.”

            Mary Margaret nodded at that, “Well unless if we want a repeat of last year’s Thanksgiving dinner, I doubt they should be within a one hundred foot radius of each other.”

            Emma already removed her skates and now sat on the floor to stretch her tired muscles.

            “Gotta love how politics brings out the best in people,” she remarked sarcastically.

            “Yes, I like to assume that it does. Especially considering how without it, I wouldn’t have a career and I wouldn’t be able to have you, sweetheart.”

            Mary Margaret blanched at the sound of her employer’s voice. Emma looked up to see her mother standing in some kind of power-pose: arms crossed, straight back, and legs a shoulder’s length apart.

            Regina Mills rolled her eyes and dispelled the tension in the air with a wave of her hand, “Oh _please_. If you think that I’m upset over not having David Nolan at my Thanksgiving dinner, you’re in for a disappointment.”

            Emma felt her whole body relax under Regina’s warm countenance. She hated seeing her mother upset. No matter the circumstance, Emma always felt as if she were responsible for her mother’s happiness. In a way, she’s not far from the truth since she is responsible for being a great source of happiness and pride for Regina.

            Regina’s eyes landed on a worn-out Killian Jones.

            “Ah, you must be Mr. Jones,” Regina plastered on her best smile, despite her growing resentment towards the man. The resentment stemmed from the dissatisfied expression on her daughter’s face. She can only assume the so-called “try out” was yet another failure.

            Killian nodded and walked over to the governor with an extended hand.

            “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Mills.”

            Regina nodded in assent while shaking his hand, “I would appreciate a word with you, Mr. Jones. Preferably alone. Why don’t we go to my office back at the house?”

            And with a wave of goodbye to Mary Margaret and a fleeting glance at Emma, Killian followed Regina out.

 

            Emma made her way back to the house, looking forward to her scheduled warm bath after practice. Once inside, she nearly bumped into Regina.

            “Mom!” Emma said in surprise. “So did Killian finally leave?”

            This seemed to be the routine ever since August left. A new willing candidate would try out, but then that very day, he would leave. Either because they couldn’t keep up or because they refused to work with her. Most people found Emma’s cold distant behavior off-putting.

            Regina arched an eyebrow, as if unable to believe the words she is about to say, “Actually, he made quite an impression on me. He seems really determined to make this work.”

            “Oh really?” Emma tried not to sound exasperated. She knew they were only wasting time. If only her mother knew how he _really_ was…

            But even Emma saw the flaws in her logic. After all, how could you really know a person after spending only a couple of hours with them? In those couple of hours, Emma merely put up with Killian gliding alongside her, placing his hands on her waist, only to trip and fall a minute later. Though she had to give him credit for getting back up after every fall.

            “Yes, really,” Regina countered her daughter’s exasperation. “And if you just give him another chance, you’ll see just how driven he is… much like you.”

            Emma rolled her eyes at this, “Mom, you weren’t there to see him smirking his way through practice.”

            “Have you ever thought that maybe it’s his defense mechanism against fear? He’s completely out of his element here. Because dear, if you haven’t noticed, he’s been playing hockey for the past twenty years of his life. And now he’s at the end of his rope.” Regina pushed on after seeing Emma’s stubborn expression, “This is his second chance at a future he actually wants. And you of all people should know how important second chances are.”

            Emma froze at that, knowing full well that the only reason she is here today is because of Regina’s second chance. Let’s just say that six-year-old Emma Swan and newly-anointed parent Regina had a rocky start to their relationship. So rocky that Regina felt entirely hopeless, convinced that she was never meant to be a mother. At the time, Emma had been in complete denial that for once, the system placed her in a _real_ home. She literally waited for the moment when Regina would have an epiphany that Emma was not worth having around, that she was more trouble than she was worth. After all, that’s what the other parents thought of her. In an act of desperation Regina struck a deal with the girl. She asked Emma for a second chance to have a real mother-daughter relationship. A second chance for happiness. And that was the first time anyone broke down one of Emma’s walls. It was the also the first time Emma let anyone in.

            “Just give him a chance, Em,” Regina said, attempting to placate the troubled expression on Emma’s face.

            _Just give me a chance_. The words echoed in Emma’s mind. She heard those words spoken long ago, spoken by Regina.

            Regina looked on with pride as Emma whipped out her cellphone and pressed Mary Margaret’s number on speed-dial.

            “Yeah, M-squared? Tell Killian to be at the rink tomorrow morning at six o’clock sharp. Before I change my mind.”

            Regina smiled when she heard Mary Margaret’s quick concurrence.

            “Now, let’s see if he can make it there on time,” Emma muttered loud enough for Regina to hear.

            “Well, it’s hard to imagine that he would,” Regina smirked at Emma’s curious countenance. “I did give him the guesthouse.”

 

            “Please give my warmest regards to your mother for allowing me to live in such a fashionable, in what she calls a ‘guest house’.”

            Emma shrugged, “Why don’t you tell her yourself. Also, I’m pretty sure _everyone_ calls it a ‘guest house’.”

            Killian glanced over at Emma, who was nestled comfortably in a plush armchair with a soft fleece blanket and a hardcover book. He smiled before turning back to wrap his brand new hockey stick with tape. Killian couldn’t help but think he owed all of his newly purchased gear to Emma. But she offered him more than just material possessions… she gave him her time. He ensured that her time not be wasted, and was only glad to put in the extra hours needed to perfect his basic skating skills with the godforsaken “toe pick”.

            After a week of practice, Emma and Killian fell into stride with each other. Killian was able to keep up with Emma, and more than that, he proved to be an adept figure skater. This came as a surprise to both Mary Margaret and Emma.

            After the week’s trial, Mary Margaret had turned to Emma and teasingly asked, “Can we keep him?”

            Emma answered with a curt nod before turning to Killian, who stood at the edge of the rink with a pleased and knowing smile.

            “And what is my verdict, princess?” Killian asked, and performed that bow that makes Emma’s cheeks flush involuntarily.

            “My verdict…” Emma shook her head, wondering why she was playing along with him. She blamed his damn charm and earnest eyes. “I’ve made the decision to keep you on.”

            Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s hand, which was now reaching out to him. He took it in his own and shook it firmly.

            “You won’t be disappointed, Lady Swan,” He said with a wink and a smile.

            Emma looked him dead in the eye and said, “I better not.”

            Now, after training for a little over a month now, Killian felt like he barely knew anything about his partner. On the ice and during their training sessions, she always kept a very calm and professional exterior. As they waited for the guy on the Zamboni to finish resurfacing the ice, the curiosity got the better of Killian.

            “What book are you reading?” He asked.

            “Charles Dickens. _Great Expectations_ ,” she replied, clearly unenthused at the prospect of Killian initiating a conversation.

            “Ah—Is Dickens a favorite of yours?” Killian inquired.

            “Maybe,” Emma answered brusquely while turning a page.

            “Is it because he writes about orphans?”

            Emma never felt her face grow so hot so fast.

            “And who’s your favorite author, Sigmund Freud?”

            Killian thought about this for a moment before answering, “Dan Brown at the moment. I’m always a fan of adventure.”

            “Bet you never thought you’d end up here then,” Emma retorted, glad to see that the Zamboni guy was finished. She got up to start warming up on the ice, but Killian stayed where he was, sitting at the edge of the rink.

            “There is more than one type of adventure. And it wouldn’t kill you to _venture_ a little bit more yourself.”

            Emma stopped abruptly in front of Killian now, spraying a fine powder of ice in his face.

            “And what is _that_ supposed to mean?” She asked with arms crossed.

            “It means that you should enjoy your life a little bit more. Do you even _like_ skating?” Killian arched an eyebrow.

            “What on _earth_ are you talking about? I can’t believe that you think you can read me like an open book. Because you don’t even know the half of it!”

            Killian took up to skating taunting circles around her.

            “Well... I do know that Regina adopted you. I also know that from watching your tapes with August, it wasn’t him that was at fault for your infamous routine. He delivered, but you on the other hand… There was something missing from your…”

            “I’m not even going to let you finish that absurd thought,” Emma glared up at Killian, tempted to smack that smile right off of his devilishly handsome face. “And on that same note, I think this partnership is over. I can’t have a partner who _enjoys_ tearing me apart.”

            Killian skated up to her, his face only inches from hers.

            “I’m not tearing you apart, love. I’m just trying to help.”

            “Well some help you are,” Emma said bitterly. “If you really wanted to help you wouldn’t be telling me that _I’m_ the one with a problem. I’m the one who skates my ass off everyday just so I can get the approval of a handful of judges out there.”

            “And perhaps, also the approval of Regina?” Killian inquired innocently.

            “That’s _it_!” Emma screamed, “Get out of my building! And take your stupid hockey sticks so you can play your stupid game!”

            “Or…” Killian skated over to his hockey gear and swiftly picked up two hockey sticks and a puck with his hands, “We can settle this like true adults. If I win, I get to stay for the remainder of the month. And if you win, I leave.”

            Emma smiled at the prospect of Killian leaving once and for all. She bet that he never knew about her rebellious summers at hockey camp.

            “Fine. This’ll teach you how I can broaden my horizons too,” she flashed him the most saccharine smile she could muster.

            “Game on, princess.”

 

            Needless to say, Emma and Killian played a heated game. But Killian is just too good of a hockey player and stood at least ten points in the lead after twenty minutes into their little scrimmage, with high stakes. Emma grew so upset at Killian’s dashing arrogant smile she angrily picked up her stick and slammed the puck in his direction…

            “You know, it was _his_ idea to play the stupid game,” Emma spoke remorsefully from where she sat in the uncomfortable plastic chair of the emergency room’s waiting area.

            Mary Margaret didn’t look up from her _Good Housekeeping_ magazine and only hummed in reply.

            Emma continued, “I mean, it’s his own fault. He was practically _asking_ to have his nose broken. If it wasn’t going to be that puck, it would have been my fist.”

            Mary Margaret flipped the page before saying, “You don’t have to be so scared you know.”

            Emma let out a peal of laughter, “Oh really? And what exactly am I scared of?”

            “That you have finally found a partner.”

            Emma opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She had a gut feeling that what Mary Margaret just said is actually true. Emma and Killian complimented each other. He pushed her out of her comfort zone, and he actually wanted to _work_ with her. He pushed her to be a better skater. It was more than she could say about August or all of the other partners who had tried out. And he needs her just as much and she needs him. Without her, he wouldn’t even have this opportunity. The opportunity to prove to the world that there is more to Killian Jones than meets the eye. And over the past few weeks, she learned just how important that is to him.

            Emma bit her bottom lip in regret as she thought of just how horrible she treated Killian, and yet he still wanted to stick around. So she made a mental note to herself that the moment she got to see him, she would apologize.

            Mary Margaret gasped at the sight of Killian as a volunteer wheeled him into the waiting room.

            “Oh my God, I thought it was just his nose!” Emma stared at Killian’s head, which was now wrapped up in white bandages, like an Egyptian mummy.

            The volunteer shrugged, much to Emma’s irritation.

            “Really, does the human population completely lack sympathy?” Emma glared after the volunteer’s retreated back.

            “Struck a chord there, Swan?” Killian’s muffled voice asked from behind all the gauze.

            “Yeah. It must be from mopping up your blood off my ice,” Emma retorted.

            Mary Margaret shook her head, “How’s your eye though? It didn’t reach your eye did it?”

            Emma looked on with apprehension as Killian dramatically unwrapped the cloth… only to reveal a perfectly fine eye and broken, but healing, nose.

            At the sight, Emma let out a strangled scream, threw her arms in the air and stormed out through the revolving doors of the emergency room.

            Killian shot a smug smile at Mary Margaret, “At least the princess didn’t break my smolder.”

            She chuckled as she wheeled him out of the hospital, “You’re worse than, Charming.” 


	3. Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the wait! But here is the third and last chapter of Figure 8. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As always, feel free to leave a comment to let me know what you think. It's been a while since I've written fan fiction so I'm a bit rusty, so I appreciate your feedback! 
> 
> Also, if you're reading this, I'm really happy you survived the winter finale of Once! Because seriously, I'm still reeling from it!! Too many emotions, too little time. 
> 
> Anyways, enough rambling. 
> 
> Enjoy!

            Emma felt as if she were on fire. And all she wants to do is forget that any of this is happening right now.

            “You should really take it easy, babe,” Neal looked on with concern after watching Emma down her fourth glass of champagne.

            Emma made a mental note for the next time Regina throws her annual New Year’s Eve party: do not invite Killian. Because when Killian is invited, he’ll only be surrounded by a flock of women vying for his attention. Of course Emma couldn’t blame these women (some of them were even her friends) for falling into Killian’s charming personality and outrageous tales of his “glory” days in college and playing for the national league. No, she couldn’t blame them at all.

Oh, and she also needs to remind her mother to provide stronger alcohol.

            Now, she has Neal clinging to her side, refusing to budge. He keeps saying things along the lines of “oh but we haven’t seen each other in so long” and “I’ve missed you so much”. The best line so far is: “I never should have left you the way I did.”

            “Can we please just talk? In private?” Neal pleaded for the sixth time that night… maybe. Emma stopped counting after he posed the question the third time around.

            Her eyes focused on the approaching waiter who served the tray of bubbling champagne flutes. She agreed only after she picked up another glass and replaced it with her empty one on the tray.

            They found the stone terrace leading to the garden empty and quiet. Neal offered Emma his jacket, but she preferred the cold night air against her skin. The cold never bothered her anyway.

            “I really think you should wear at least my blazer though, it’s pretty brutal out here,” Neal said, contorting his face in discomfort against the frigid temperature.

            “And I really think that it’s time that you stop telling me what to do. Like you think you know what’s best for me,” Emma said, shooting him a scalding glare. She completely lost all patience with him.

            Neal opened his mouth to say something but Emma cut him off.

            “No, you need to listen to what I have to say. I’ve been listening to you grovel on the phone. Now it’s my turn. But I’m not going to beg you for a second chance at whatever it was we had. I still don’t know what it was… We were so naïve. At least I know _I_ was naïve. I was naïve enough to not see it coming that you wouldn’t be there for me when I needed you most.”

            Neal sighed, clearly frustrated, “But how the hell was I supposed to know that the exact moment I decided to move to London for that executive position, you were thinking of retirement?”

            “You weren’t,” Emma said through gritted teeth. “But I did expect you to at least discuss your plans with me before acting on them. You told me you were leaving _three days_ before your flight. You don’t think I deserved some kind of warning? Or at least a chance to talk about us? But no, you wanted to talk after the fact you made the decision _for us_. You decided to leave.”

            Neal took her hands in his, rubbing them gently together, the friction made her own hands warmer.

            “I admit it. I was scared. I was completely terrified of losing you for good. I thought that if I just gave you some space, and some time to really think about _us_ , you would realize that I took the job for us and our future.”

            Emma searched his eyes, discovering pure honesty.

            She shook her head sadly, “Still, you’re asking too much. The time for us is over. I really needed you and you weren’t there. If it weren’t for my mom and Mary Margaret, I would have retired by now. They really picked up the pieces after you left. After August left.” She laughed bitterly, “It was almost like you guys conspired against me. To quit at the same time.”

            Neal tightened his grip around her hands, “But Emma don’t you see? I didn’t quit on you at all. I’ve never stopped loving you. And I’m here tonight to tell you that I’m ready to go all the way.”

            Emma shot him a harsh dubious look, “I really hope you’re not implying what I think you’re implying. Because I don’t think you’re ready at all.”

            Neal’s crestfallen face didn’t deter Emma. She felt stronger than ever. And it’s not because of the extra hours put into training, extra hours that both her and Killian had agreed upon. “After all, we need to be in our best form for nationals, milady,” Killian had said with a wink. And now, even as Neal stood alone before her, Emma wondered how Killian entered her thoughts.

            “I need someone who is willing to work with me, because relationships are hard work and dedication. I need someone who is willing to dive into the unknown with me, because that’s what life’s really about,” Emma said breathlessly, with the image of Killian taking steady steps towards her on the ice during his first day. The first day they ever laid eyes on each other. She was positive Killian had no idea what he was getting himself into. Nonetheless, he was willing to do whatever it takes to make it work. In the beginning, Emma knew Killian needed to work extra hard for his own sake, for his own chance at a future as her partner. However, as they trained side by side, it became clear he was willing to go above and beyond to be a part of the team. At this point, Emma felt her career safe in his hands. She knew Killian felt the same way about her and his future.

            “I need someone who still likes me and makes me smile and laugh and be happy despite the fact that I slammed a puck in his face…”

            Now, Neal looked as if Emma slapped him across the face. Hard.

            “Why do I get the feeling that you’re talking about that _hockey player_?”

            Emma tore her hands away from Neal’s, “That _hockey player_ has given me a reason to look forward to skating again. He’s been training me to improve my slap shot. And I’ve been coaching him on his jumps. He’s more than just a hockey player. We make each other _better_. He’s my partner.”

            Neal shook his head, and Emma couldn’t tell if it was out of anger or defeat.

            “I think we’re done here,” Neal said before brushing past her to make his way back inside to the party.

            Emma stood alone and looked out at the gardens. She remembered how she used to love lounging around on the lawn with a good book. Before she even put on a pair of skates, Emma’s favorite pastime involved dreaming up adventures and finding friends in the pages of the books Regina brought home for her. The fairytales are what enthralled her the most. Legends of kings and queens, princesses and pirates, dragons and warlocks… they lured her into a world beyond her imagination. They gave her the power of not only believing in happy endings, the stories had her hoping for a happy ending of her own.

            “Emma?”

            Emma turned to the sound of Killian’s voice. He took long fast strides towards her, holding a fleece blanket in his arms. The fleece blanket he bought for her for Christmas. Killian had taken note of how Emma’s current blanket had become worn with use. So he invested in a new one for her. “Only the best for a princess,” he had said during their exchange of gifts.

            “Oh thank goodness, I thought you froze,” Killian said while he draped the soft material around her bare shoulders.

            “Thanks, Killian… Now if only there was something else other than champagne at this party.” The corners of Emma’s mouth turned up into a smile as the warmth enveloped her all at once.

            Killian smirked, “As you wish.”

He pulled out a silver flask with a flourish from the inside of his jacket pocket.

            “Oh bless your heart,” Emma smiled. “Putting my Christmas gift to use are you?”

            “Well, this is the perfect moment to baptize it,” he handed over the flask.

            Emma was glad she decided not to engrave the thing. For days she thought about having the words, “Thank You” inscribed. Now she loved the blankness of the metal, much like a clean slate. The stainless steel felt cool to the touch against the palm of her hand.

            Killian looked on as Emma took a small swig from the container.

            “What’s wrong, Emma?” He asked, taking the flask from her outstretched hand and stealing a few sips of his own.

            “Why does something have to be wrong? Can’t I just enjoy the view of the garden in peace without something being wrong?” she asked innocently.

            “Not when it’s freezing. Not when there’s a perfectly nice party going on _inside_ ,” Killian said, leaning closer towards Emma.

            _Personal space has never been Killian’s forte._ Emma smiled at the thought.

            “Some fresh air never hurt anyone,” she shrugged.

            “I wonder what hurts most. Freezing to death or facing one’s past,” Killian mused aloud. He turned to face her, “So which does hurt most?”

            Emma shook her head, “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you? You know a lot more than you let on.”

            Killian’s laughter resounded in the chill air and against the stones. Emma could feel it settle in her bones and warm her nerves.

            “Well it helps that I’ve been inquiring about you and that mysterious person leaving the party. Your friend Ruby is rather helpful in filling me in on your romantic ventures once my inquiries become rather annoyingly persistent,” Killian said tenderly, with an arched eyebrow.

            “Of course she is…” Emma sighed, suddenly thirsty for more rum. “So do you think you have me figured out yet?” Her voice lilted in amusement.

            Killian’s eyes suddenly turned somber, “Your future is a bit hazy…”

            “That’s kind of a given though. No one really knows the cards life deals for you beforehand,” she lamented.

            “Well, I happen to like the cards life has dealt me,” Killian said, his eyes staring earnestly into Emma’s. “Regardless, we all have a choice. What’s your choice, Emma?”

            A moment of clarity settled over Emma. Suddenly, nothing seemed impossible under the magic of the moonlight. And for the first time in a long time, she knows exactly what she wants. She knows exactly what she wants to do.

            Emma’s hands reached out and grasped the lapels of Killian’s tux. She could hear and feel Killian’s breath hitch at the unexpected gesture. His right hand gravitated to caress her cheek and cradle the back of her head. Emma closed her eyes at the sensation of his fingers brushing against her hair. Killian handled her as if she is treasure. A chill ran through him, rendering him completely helpless in her presence. But his mind is completely lucid, taking in every detail. He reveled at the way her warm breath ghosted upon his lips.

            And in an instant, Emma closed the gap between them. She smiled as she felt his arm wrap around her waist securely, expanding the depths of their shared kiss. She never felt so safe and loved. Killian felt completely invincible.

            When their lips finally parted, Emma had to restrain herself from drifting closer to him. She could feel Killian’s reluctance to separate from her as well, with his arm stubbornly wrapped around her waist.

            “I choose you.”

            Killian offered Emma his arm, which she gladly looped her own arm through. Together, they turned to face the new year. 


End file.
